Blondie and Ginger
by follow that monkey
Summary: Draco. Ginny. Snogging. Secret teacher threesomes, and luuurrrve... soon, anyway. Maybe. UPDATED! Chapter one digitally re-mastered punctuation wise, with some added tidbits. NEW CHAPTER - Draco, Ginny and Pansy have an encounter with the Sinking Step...
1. Detention, vegetables and liasons in the...

Dear Readers,   
  
Er, that sounded really retarded. Scrub that.   
  
A/N: (there, that's better) Here is a weird little ficcy from the depths of my freakishly warped imagination. You see, I wanted to write a Draco/Ginny fic, and I wrote 'Truly Madly Deeply', which you may or may not have read. Well, to put it mildly, it was quite... unrealistic. So here is my latest Draco/Ginny offering, a little more realistic, peppered with retarded scenarios that, for some unknown reason, decided to pop into my head... oh yeah, there IS more to come, another chapter or two, I just got lazy typing tonight, but anyhoo, here's the fic, please REVIEW! If you don't I'll track you down and rub your face in Snape's hair *evil laugh*   
  
**EDIT** - 'Truly Madly Deeply' has now been deleted. You can't go find it and laugh at me. Mwa-ha-haha!   
  
And yes, I know everyone except Draco (and maybe Ginny) is out-of-character. But you can't complain about Ginny, because in the books, she kind of has no character. So there. There's more to this redhead than the odd blush and a Valentine I think was actually sent from _McGonagall_ to Harry...   
  
It's a _joke_, people :)   
  


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**Blondie and Ginger**

  
  


**.**

  
  
I clambered out of bed, pushing the lush, green velvet covers and sheets to the floor, and leaving them there. Let the house-elves pick them up. It's their _job_, isn't it?   
  
I pulled on my expensive robes ("Only the best for my Draco!" as Narcissa said. Lucius, on the other hand, just grunted), and made sure my silver-blonde hair was looking immaculate before walking down the stairs from the sixth year boys dormitory towards the Slytherin Common Room. Luckily, Grabbe and Goyle were no-where to be seen. Probably stuffing their faces in the Great Hall. I mean, after _six years_ you'd think they'd have stopped following me around. It's not like I need _protection_ or anything. I'm not a scrawny little kid anymore; I'm one of the tallest and most handsome boys in this year. The whole school even. That did, of course, have it's drawbacks.   
  
"Oh, hi Draco!" twittered Pansy.   
  
This was one of them.   
  
Damn. I never noticed her till it was too late. If I'd had time, I would have run for the window or something... but now I was stuck. Oh help me, please. Make her die.   
  
"Hi Pansy." I replied tonelessly, hoping she'd get the hint. She didn't.   
  
"I was wondering..." she giggled, twirling her irritatingly greasy hair around her finger. Eww! What the hell was that?! I swear, something just crawled out from under her fingernail...   
  
"If you'd like to come to the Halloween Ball with me?"   
  
Shit. The alarm bells started ringing; a voice in my head screaming 'Run! Now, run! Throw yourself down the stairs!'. I gagged, clapping a hand to my mouth. Oh, how horrible... Pansy? I'd rather go with Potty... or Weasel...   
  
"I'm sorry Pansy, (NOT!) but I promised to help a friend fold roadmaps."   
  
"So you can't go with me?" she whimpered. I groaned. How thick could she be?   
  
"No Pansy, I can't."   
  
"I thought you liked me?"   
  
I couldn't help laughing. For six years, I'd been avoiding her. I mean, I never spoke to her. I pride myself on being prepared. I have a whole five point plan: See Pansy, turn round, walk away quickly, hide, escape. If all else fails: suicide. It is as simple as that.   
  
"Well, uh, I have to go now..." I replied, before turning around and leaving the Common Room. I had to have some breakfast, although I now doubted I'd be able to keep it down...   
  


**.**

  
  
"Ginny?" shouted Hermione, "Are you coming to breakfast?"   
  
"Yeah, in a sec!" I shouted back, pulling on the green and white stripy socks Dobby had given me for Chistmas the year before. As I slid my feet into my shoes, I wondered why Dobby had even given me a present. Must've seen me standing near Harry or something.   
  
I dragged a brush through my hair, and hurtled down the stairs to meet Hermione.   
  
"Hi Gin." she smiled as we walked over to Harry and my older brother 'Ginny, Do What I Tell You I'm Your Brother And Have To Take Care Of You' Ron.   
  
"Hey Ginny." grinned Harry.   
  
"Hi." I replied, without blushing the way I used to everytime Harry came near me. Hell, I got over Harry ages ago!   
  
We walked along in silence towards the Great Hall. We were almost there when I realised I'd forgotten my Potions textbook. This was badddd news, seen as I had Potions first, so I made my excuses and headed back up to the Girls Dormitory, grabbed my textbook and started off to the Great Hall again. Harry, Ron and Hermione would probably already be there. I sped up, and half-ran round the corner only to run into something solid.   
  
"Oof." it said, and my bag and Potions book clattered to the floor. There was a loud crack as my ink bottle smashed, covering the Potions textbook with the permanent ink Hermione had given for Christmas. Oh no.   
  


**.**

  
  
"Oof." I said.   
  
I heard a clatter, and brushing my perfect hair out of my perfect eyes I saw a... a... a _Weasley_! Well, it wasn't that bad. At least it wasn't Weasel, Potty's secret lover. It was the girl one. Ginny.   
  


**.**

  
  
I looked up. Arghhh. It was Draco.   
  
"Watch it!" I snapped.   
  


**.**

  
  
"Watch it!" she snapped.   
  
I immediately switched from 'Nice-Guy About To Help You Pick Up Your Stuff' mode to 'Defensive, "Wasn't Me"' mode.   
  
I crossed my arms, and leaned against the wall lazily.   
  
"Me? _You_ watch it." I drawled. What? Did you think I never noticed my drawl? Don't be stupid. I have that thing copyrighted.   
  
"It's your fault."   
  
"No it's not," I replied, "You ran into _me_."   
  
"But," she replied haughtily, "You were in my way."   
  
I shrugged my shoulders.   
  
"Macho Law prohibits me from admitting I'm in the wrong."   
  
"Well, aren't you going to help me?" she asked, brown eyes spitting fire as her flame-red hair fell over her face. Her hair really was quite nice. Nice color... like the fire dragons breathe... I mentally slapped myself for even _thinking_ about a Weasley being nice. I remembered my father's opinion of the Weasleys. And his words.   
  
"Make me proud, son."   
  
Then I remembered I hated my father. He was such a drama queen, all this Voldemort crap... Mudblood this, Mudblood that... blah blah bitty blah. The asshole. Screw him, I might as well help the Weasley. I don't discriminate by blood, I just don't like certain people. Well, actually, I don't like anyone. Except my perfect self, of course. I bent down and began picking up her books, quills and wand. The look on her face was actually quite funny, a sort of cross between absolute horror, surprise and fear. I laughed to myself.   
  


**.**

  
  
"Well, aren't you going to help me?" I asked, expecting a sarcastic comment or insult to be thrown my way. What happened next was a complete surprise. He bent down, and helped me pick up my things. I was horrified. He must be ill. Or crazy!   
  
He put my things into my bag for me (permanently ruined Potions book included), said some spell to mend my ink bottle and put that in too. Then he _smiled_! I was so shocked. I was used to seeing the scowl or the sneer... the permanent 'I'm Better Than You' look. Well, I suppose it was semi-permanent, cos it was gone. He looked so different when he smiled! Almost... cute. Those steely-grey eyes, chiselled, perfect face, and that hair... GINNY! "Stop that right now!" I screamed to myself, "It's Malfoy!"   
  
Why on earth was he helping me anyway? Doesn't he know what a rhetorical question is?   
  
"Are you ill?" I asked, "Like, mentally ill?"   
  


**.**

  
  
"Are you ill?" she asked, "Like, mentally ill?"   
  
I thought about it. I probably was. It was weird... I'd just helped someone, and it felt weird... good almost. This must be how Potty feels 24/7. Not bad actually. Well, it's probably bad for him; all that good feeling getting mixed up with his feelings for Ron The Weasel. Must be quite confusing. Realising I hadn't even answered the question yet, I grinned. Boy, that felt weird.   
  
"Maybe."   
  
With that, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and walked off, whistling. Ginny just stood there, open-mouthed, staring at me. She was actually quite cute when she was surprised. Boy, I'd like to see her angry...   
  


**.**

  
  
"Weasley! What is this?" barked Snape, holding my soggy, stained Potions book in the air.   
  
"Um... a soggy, stained Potions book?"   
  
"Ten points from Gryffindor Miss Weasley! I will not tolerate carelessness."   
  
"Greasy asshole." I muttered. Big mistake. He heard me. How, I don't know. I'm beginning to suspect Snape isn't entirely human.   
  
"WHAT?" he half-screamed, eyes almost popping out of his pale, greasy face. Honestly, you'd think he washed his face in a bloody frying pan twice a day...   
  
I honestly didn't know what to say, so I just sat there, willing myself not to burst into hysterical laughter at the sight of Snape, who was now turning a dashing shade of purple.   
  
"DETENTION! You will report to this classroom immediately after dinner for a three hour detention!"   
  
"Three hours?" I asked incredulously. I couldn't help it. Three hours? What did he expect me to do for _three hours_?   
  
"FOUR hours!" he screamed.   
  
Oops.   
  


**.**

  
  
"Mr Malfoy?" snapped McGonagall.   
  
"What?" I yawned. I really can't be bothered with all this Transfiguration crap. I mean, you're hardly going to have to use it, are you? Unless, by some freak of nature, you realise that Potty can be killed by the prick of a needle (not the prick of Ron Weasley, a _needle_, repeat, needle) and you only have a match. Oh no! Tada, use your Transfiguration skills, and presto! No more Potty. Yeah, like _that_ is going to happen any time soon.   
  
"Your banana is too small!"   
  
Yeah, like I'm ever going to hear someone say that to me...   
  
"What?" I asked again. I was starting to feel quite queasy. McGonagall, saying anything about my 'banana' was actually really... well, freaky.   
  
"Next time you turn an apple into a banana, make sure it's bigger!"   
  
I breathed a sigh of relief. _That_ banana. Hell, like she's ever getting within an inch of my other one... yeuch. McGonagall. She's all strict, and bossy. Oooh, I bet Snape likes that. I always knew he had a thing for McGonagall. I began singing 'Snape and McGonagall, Sitting In A Tree' under my breath, hoping she wouldn't notice.   
  


**.**

  
  
I stirred my potion, which was supposed to be green. It was a steely grey color. Just like Draco's eyes...   
  
"Weasley!" snapped Snape, but I didn't notice. I was too busy daydreaming. Yet another big mistake. I regretted that mistake, especially when, a few seconds later, my cauldron was a pile of twisted, melted pewter on the floor.   
  
Oops.   
  
"Go get Filch! This mess has to be cleaned up!" barked Snape.   
  
Yeuch. I have to go near Filch.   
  
I hurriedly stepped over the remnants of my cauldron and went to fetch Filch before Snape turned the purple shade usually reserved for me when I messed up in his class. I named that color 'Pale Greasy Asshole Purple'. He turns that color a lot.   
  


**.**

  
  
I was just about to fall asleep again, still mumbling my Snape and McGonagall song, when I heard a clatter of footsteps coming down the corridor towards the classroom. I peered out, and saw a flash of red, and familiar green robes. It was Ginny. Having nothing better to do, I decided to, er, look at her as she walked past. I mean, she's hardly the skinny little brat from yesteryear, is she? Grew up quite nicely. Of course, I'd never _tell_ her that. She's probably still obsessing over Potty. Shame.   
  
Anyways, I could hear her coming closer, but I didn't exactly have the best view. I squirmed around in my seat, trying to move the desk closer to the door without alerting Professor McGonagall-Snape. I realised this was never going to work, I mean, if I got that desk over to the door without her noticing then Potty was straight.   
  
So, I resorted to Plan B. I leaned forward, _way_ forward, right over my desk, trying to catch a glimpse of Ginny, maybe give a quick whistle, just to freak her out, then disaster struck. The desk gave way, and fell right over, hurling me straight over it.   
  
As I lay sprawled on the floor, trying to ignore the sniggers, Ginny walked straight by, oblivious to the fact I was lying twisted in the doorway.   
  
Oops.   
  


**.**

  
  
"Three hours?" cried Hermione, as Harry and Ron played in their bi-weekly 'Most Peas Up Nose Wins' tournament with Dean and Seamus.   
  
"Three hours what?" asked Harry, turning round. He'd given up on the tournament, and it was unusual for Hermione to raise her voice unless she was crying out "Textbook!", so he was quite curious as to what was going on. Ron, realising he only had three peas up his nose gave up too, because Dean and Seamus were now hitting double figures.   
  
"Detention." I pouted, "And it's four hours."   
  
"For what?" asked Ron, trying to pull a particularly stubborn pea out of his right nostril.   
  
"I called Snape a greasy asshole."   
  
This, unfortunately, made Harry laugh, and there were yells of "Ew!" as a few peas hit some unsuspecting first years in the eye. Dean and Seamus overheard, and the effect was devastating. Seamus began to laugh to, snorting in great gasps as Dean cried "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!"   
  
Well, obviously, he couldn't breathe. He had sixteen peas up his left nostril and twenty one up the right. What did he expect?   
  
I looked at my cheap fourth hand watch, that still had 'Propty of Charlie Weezly' carved into the back in scrawny, eight year old kid writing. It was five to seven, dinner finished at seven. I might as well go down to the dungeons early. Knowing my rotten luck I'd fall down the stairs and break my leg on the way there, thus rendering me unable to walk _and_ late. I said my goodbyes, and left the Great Hall just as Harry cried -   
  
"Hey Ron, bet you can't get this potato up your nose!"   
  
"Bet I can!"   
  


**.**

  
  
_Back in the good old days.... Ten Minutes Earlier.... _   
  
I pushed my food around on my plate. I wasn't really hungry. Sitting with these goons at the Slytherin table at mealtimes isn't exactly the best experience. I mean, I always end up crammed between the chubby thighs of Crabbe and the flabby upper arms of Goyle. God, have none of these people heard of Slimfast?   
  
Anyways, I was, as I said, pushing my food around on my plate when Professor Snape hurried over to the table, looking shifty, scratching his arm and attempting to hide it with his robes at the same time.   
  
"Draco." he whispered.   
  
"What?" I whispered back, rolling my eyes.   
  
"I need to... go somewhere." he replied, looking more shifty than ever, "And I have to supervise someone on a four hour detention."   
  
Just then I felt sorry for the poor sod. Not Snape, though, the detentionee.   
  
"So?" I asked flippantly.   
  
"Would you mind going down to my dungeon, and watch over them? Feel free to insult them with that razor-sharp wit of yours."   
  
Okay, now he was just sucking up. On the other hand, I didn't really want to spend the night in the Common Room being accosted by Pansy or flattened by Grabbe and Goyle.   
  
"Ok, whatever. It's not like I have anything better to do. I was just going to screw a Gryffindor in the broom shed anyway." I grinned, thinking of Ginny. Mwa-ha-ha-ha!   
  
Snape gave me a strange look.   
  
"Alright. Thank you." he tried to smile, but as I had suspected, this proved impossible for Snape and he ended up with his face contorted in a creepy grimace, yellowing teeth and all. I fought the urge to shield my eyes.   
  
"The detention begins at seven."   
  
With that, he hurried away, peering at his arm. Probably off to have a secret, pervy orgy with McGonagall and Dumbledore in the broom shed. I shuddered and pushed that disgusting thought from my perfect little mind, but as I made my way towards the dungeons, I couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore got turned on by Snape's arm...   
  
  
  
**

Review?

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	2. Sarcasm, Sinking Steps, and the numbing ...

  
  
**A/N:** I have decided, shock upon shock, horror upon horror... that this story has developed a... PLOT! Yes, I know, for a while that didn't seem possible. Yes, it was touch and go... but now, with this regrettably kinda short installment that is the first step to actual ficdom, the plot is developing! I actually know where this is going to go (somewhere). Er... yay. Anyhoo, lets get on with it...   
  
  


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I was just walking down the corridor, wondering if Ginny would ever actually screw me in the broomshed (hmmm... maybe if I put a few pillows down...) when BAM! the floor disappeared from underneath my feet.   
  
I am a _very_ unlucky person.   
  


**.**

  
  
Where does Snape get off giving me a four hour detention? It's not fair. I didn't even do anything wrong! It was Draco's fault, the stupid prick. Bumping into me like that, I bet he meant it. Speaking of Draco, is that him neck-deep in the Sinking Step?   
  


**.**

  
  
Oh my God, I can't feel my legs, where are my legs? I need my legs! Oh no, will I still have what was between my legs?   
  
After panicking over what seemed like a severe lack of manhood for a few minutes, I heard footsteps behind me. I struggled to turn round, and realised my neck was probably all I had left, panicked again, but decided to turn round anyway. After a few seconds I managed to face the other way, only to see my dear soon-to-be humping partner Ginny. Phew.   
  
"Hey Ginny." I smiled my irresistible Malfoy smile. "How's it hanging?"   
  
I had to remind myself that soon there might be nothing left to hang, and got to the point.   
  
"I seem to have fallen into a sinking step..."   
  
"Gee, I'd like to care, but I don't possess that gene." she replied, walking by. "And I have a detention to get to."   
  


**.**

  
  
Like I'm going to help him, who does he think he is? After five years of snide remarks and sarcastic comments, he wants me to yank his sorry arse out of a sinking step? No way. I should go get Harry, Ron and Hermione, and we can all spit on him...   
  


**.**

  
  
Uh-oh. She isn't going to help me. I'm going to waste away, and my life will end on a flight of stairs that Mrs Norris has probably peed on more times than Filch humped Lockhart. How undignified.   
  
"Ginny." I called, "Aren't you going to help me?"   
  
She turned around, folded her arms across her chest and walked back, looking at me. Damn. She's going to laugh. Now _that's_ undignified.   
  
"What makes you think I'm going to help you?" she asked innocently.   
  
"Well, there's the fact I'm so handsome..."   
  
"Screw you." she snapped, "I'm leaving, and _you_ are just going to have to save yourself."   
  
"But whyyyyyyyyyy?" I whined, pouting, hoping to get some sympathy. "What did I ever do to you?"   
  
"Do you want a list, Malfoy? I think you're a cruel, nasty, sarcastic arsehole, and frankly, I think you should have to stay in that god-forsaken step until you change your attitude."   
  
Excuse me? Is she insulting my attitude? I _like_ my attitude!   
  
"What time is it?" I asked.   
  
She looked a little confused, then looked at her watch.   
  
"Five past seven."   
  
"Wow." I exclaimed, rolling my eyes, "Only fourteen billion hours till I start caring what you think about my attitude. Oh, and cruel is really just the same as nasty."   
  


**.**

  
  
Oh, how predictable. Sarcastic reply.   
  
"Don't start with me Malfoy."   
  
"I'm not starting anything, I'm trying to get out of this fucking step!"   
  
"And I care... why?" I replied, thouroughly enjoying watching Draco beg for help.   
  


**.**

  
  
"Because you love me and wish to see me live?" I asked hopefully.   
  
Apparently, Ginny neither loved me nor wished to see me live, and demonstrated this brand of what I assumed to be genetic Weasley coldheartedness perfectly when she spun on her heel and stalked away.   
  
Arghhh.   
  


**.**

  
  
As I walked away, I began to wonder whether or not leaving Draco to a certain death in the Sinking Step was the right thing to do. After all, he was damn fine...   
  
Just then, Pansy Parkinson appeared out of nowhere (or from around a corner - I wasn't really looking). Purposely shoving into me on the way past and managing to look like a bulldog chewing a wasp at the same time, she snarled, "For God's sake, aren't you watching where you're going?"   
  
After having the crappy day to top all crappy days, I was in no mood for this elitest Slytherin crap, so I snapped, "If I _was_ watching where I was going, do you really think I'd have ended up within a square mile of you?"   
  
Looking like she'd swallowed the wasp and it'd stung her in the throat on the way down, Pansy stared at me, open-mouthed. Uh-oh. She was going to wallop me one.   
  
"By the way," I added, "Draco's up to his head in the Sinking Step. That way."   
  
I pointed behind me, and watched her expression of shock and anger turn into one of a lovesick puppy.   
  
"My baby!" she screeched, and ran off.   
  
Phew.   
  
But I can't help but pity Draco... er, I mean _Malfoy_...   
  


**.**

  
  
I had resigned myself to the fact that I was going to _die_, and that it was a _Weasley's_ fault... (being all intelligent and all, I'd figured out that it was Ginny who had detention) but I wasn't all that depressed. I mean, really, the look on Lucius' face when he finds out I was practically killed by a Weasley, without even putting up a fight... he'd die of shame. Which is quite good, actually. Apart from the fact I'd be dead too...   
  
I busied myself thinking about Ginny, in a broomshed, trying to ignore my impending death. My little fantasy was interrupted, though, when Pansy ran round the corner. Geez, does everyone you bump into in this godforsaken place come round a bloody corner? Why can they just walk towards you in a bloomin' straight line?   
  
"My poor wittle baby!" she cried, sniffing. Half wondering whether or not 'wittle' would be in the dictionary, and trying at the same time to imagine Ginny in the broomshed wearing, _ahem_, me, I attempted to ignore Pansy. But then she took her bony arms and wrapped them around my head, the only part of my body now that wasn't, well, gone.   
  
"Arghhh! Gerroff!" I yelled, trying to bite her. Fortunately, my teeth didn't come in contact with her scaly skin, because at that very moment she yanked me out of the step with one tug. Her arms were still wrapped around my head, but we were now lying a good few feet away from the step. I could feel her pointy knees, crushing my legs into the concrete, and prayed that they wouldn't come near my groin.   
  
"Get _off_ me." I snapped, but she ignored me. Jesus, she was _freakishly_ strong...   
  
"Well, isn't this nice..." she cooed, breathing her rancid breath in my face.   
  
"Well, to be honest... no." I replied, pushing her away. My strong, muscular arms were apparently useless. Who would have thought that toothpick Pansy Parkinson could overpower, well, me? Just then, a strand of her hair brushed my blemish free cheek. 'EWWWWWWWW' I screamed to myself as it left a track, like a snail...   
  
Panicking, I twisted my head to the side, and made another futile attempt to escape. But Pansy had other ideas. She gripped my face in a bony hand, and lowered her head towards mine. As her cracked lips hovered close to my face, I wished to myself that the Sinking Step would develop legs, hobble over and swallow her whole.   
  
I can't believe this is how I'm going to die. The Kiss of Death from Pansy Parkinson.   
  
  
  
**Sorry about the, well, massive delay... review, if you want :) I need suggestions! Should Draco be saved? By Ginny? Then what? S'up to you... well, kind of.**


End file.
